Half-Blood's Legacy
by AquaLux Divine
Summary: She is a half-blood Fanalis living in Sindria after escaping the living nightmare known as enslavement. She has done her best to put her unsavory past behind her, but she is ill prepared for the future. Alongside the outcast third prince of Balbadd, a pure-blood Fanalis girl, and a young Magi, she finds herself in the midst of a rising battle with the dark organization, Al-Thamen.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome, welcome! This is my first ever Magi story, so I really hope this turns out well. :)**

**It is written from the point of view of an OC, so if you don't like that kind of thing, I advise you to turn back now.**

**I figure I also better put in a chapter-specific warning. It's not graphic or anything, but this chapter does feature violence and abuse, and if that's not your cup of tea, you should probably avoid reading the section of this chapter written in italics(which is more than half of it, to be honest). Don't worry about it too much, though. You won't be missing out on much if you do decide to skip that part.**

**And one more thing before we begin; thank you to Les Miserabby for beta-reading this chapter for me. Your help is greatly appreciated!**

**I do not own Magi.**

* * *

**~ Half-Blood's Legacy ~**

**~ Chapter One ~**

Being half Fanalis had its ups and downs - it definitely came in handy when it came to heavy lifting, or when you were in a serious fight. And even though being half-blooded made one's strength not quite as impressive as a pure-blood hailing from the Dark Continent, nobody could deny that a teenage girl being able to heft a grown man twice her size and weight over her head was something to be wary of.

Maven huffed lowly as the aforementioned man she had just tossed slammed into the adjacent wall. He slid down to the ground, thoroughly dazed. The handful of coins that he had stolen fell from his open palm and rolled, coming to stop a foot away.

Maven moved to gather them up, ignoring the faintly indignant groan of the thief as he weakly lifted a hand in her direction. Upon straightening up and fixing her attention back onto the man, she was somewhat astounded as she watched that same outstretched arm fall limply to the ground and his head loll to the side. He was out cold.

A silence stretched out from behind her, where she knew several street vendors and civilians were gathered, watching the display with eyes that were most likely wide and staring.

She ducked her head sheepishly, a small smile gracing her lips as she slowly turned to face the crowd again.

Yes, being half Fanalis certainly had its perks, but sometimes it was also a huge bane, especially when she forgot that not everyone was as physically adept as her.

She wasn't going to get off lightly for this. Maven knew it, and it brought about a pang of dread. Making a scene in Sindria's Marketplace rarely ended well, no matter how valiant her actions may have been.

The news always somehow found its way back to a certain strict royal adviser after all.

Maven was not looking forward to the impending lecture ahead of her.

* * *

It wasn't as if Maven went to the Marketplace looking for trouble - no, she went there to browse the selection, to see if anything caught her eye. It was a fairly normal occurrence for her, it was a location that she frequented.

It also just so happened that the Marketplace was where a lot of action took place.

Action like today.

Maven had been minding her own business, just looking through a stall full to the brim with different kinds of fruits. She'd figured her friends back at the palace would appreciate the gift - plus she was in the mood for some succulent fruit herself.

It wasn't her fault that she so happened to turn her head just in time to catch a glimpse of a burly man snatching a handful of money right out of some woman's hand as she went to pay for her purchase.

It wasn't her fault that the man then took off down the road despite the protests of both the woman and the stall vendor.

And it certainly wasn't Maven's fault that said man ended up splayed out against a wall, knocked out cold fifteen seconds later.

It served him right - stealing was wrong. The red-haired girl hadn't done anything bad, as far as she was concerned. In fact, the woman that had been stolen from had been very grateful(if not a bit terrified by Maven's show of brutal strength)!

Of course, not everyone agreed with her. And that was why she was sitting here, getting lectured about misbehaving and going too far in a place as bustling and lively as the Marketplace.

"-such irresponsible actions," Maven suddenly tuned herself back in to what the white-haired man was saying, just catching the last little bit of his statement.

The brown-eyed girl furrowed her brow in response, and looked up at Ja'far. "I stopped a thief and returned the stolen goods," she said, trying to reason her way out of trouble, "I don't think I was being that irresponsible..."

The look she received for her speaking out instantly had her zipping her lips shut. She may have been physically stronger than most, but that didn't mean she wasn't scared shirtless of this man and his glares.

He was downright terrifying when provoked.

"You tossed him through a wooden stall, Maven," the adviser chastised her, "and on top of that you destroyed several of the merchant's products, and gave the thief a concussion to boot. You need to be more careful."

Maven dropped her gaze to her shoe-clad feet, suddenly recalling the damage she had unintentionally done.

She still wasn't completely used to her own strength at times, since in her younger years, she'd never really used it much. So she, at times, found herself getting carried away and forgetting herself. Today was a brilliant example of that.

She just couldn't win, could she?

"Sorry," the half-blooded girl mumbled after a moment of silent consideration. "I'll try to tone it down next time. I really will."

"You say that every time something like this happens," Maven flinched at the words, knowing that they rung true, and heard Ja'far sigh after a moment. A hand landed atop her head, ruffling her dark red hair. "It is what it is, I suppose. Just, _really_ try not to let it happen again, alright?"

Maven lifted her head as the man's hand retracted, and she nodded, offering a small smile to him. "I will. I promise."

Ja'far nodded back and returned the younger girl's smile with a slight one of his own, before dismissing her. She was quick to leave the room, but not before waving once before vanishing out the door.

Maven released a soft sigh of relief after she was some distance away from the white-haired man's office, running a hand through her hair and messing it up even further than it already was.

Getting into trouble with Ja'far was never fun. His lectures usually lasted for at least two hours - even longer on bad days when the King was acting immature.

Walking down the palace halls, Maven took her time returning to her room to think back to how she had met Ja'far and Sinbad, along with the other Generals.

It had been nearly six years ago now. She had met them when she had been just ten years old, and had been living here since. She still remembered that day as clearly as if it was just yesterday.

They were literally the reason she wasn't laying face-down, dead in some abandoned alleyway. If it weren't for them, Maven was sure she would have ceased to exist a long time ago.

* * *

_The sun was hot. Blazing, beating down mercilessly upon the backs of the unfortunate souls below._

_Standing in a haphazard line with at least five others, her head hanging low and her wrists and ankles bound in unforgiving steel, the young red-haired girl trudged along the dirt path. Her eyes were downcast, saddened and filled to the brim with despair and fear._

_Deeper, beyond that, however, burned an undeniable anger._

_She still couldn't believe that this was happening. That just three days ago, she had been running down the worn path toward the little hovel she shared with her father. That just three days ago, she had not known this kind of human cruelty. That just three days ago, she had been _happy_._

_And most of all...that just three days ago she had thought her father had loved her._

_Clearly that was not the case when he had sold her to a slave-trader so he could pay off his many debts. There had been no hesitation on his part, no regret. He had been looking to save his own hide, and that was all._

_What had she been to him? Just an item to barter off for some pocket change?_

_Where was that so-called family love and loyalty?_

_She hoped he was happy with his choice. She also hoped that for his sake, he never saw her again. She would make him wish she'd never been born if she ever saw his backstabbing face again - that or break down and cry. At this point, she wasn't sure if she was more angry or hurt at what he had done to her._

_Right now, though, at this very moment in time, with her ankles and wrists confined, she was pretty sure she was just angry._

_And as angry as she was, as much as she didn't want to believe the situation she was in...she feared the man plodding along behind her and the other slaves. He was a slave-trader, as cruel and harsh as the sun in the sky._

_He did not tolerate misbehaving. The fresh scars on her back from last night were a perfect testament to that._

_That alone kept her from acting out again._

_In that moment, it didn't matter that her mother had been a Fanalis and that she had gotten her own fair share of that herculean strength. It didn't matter that she could very well snap these chains right now if she tried hard enough. It didn't matter that all it would take was a firm kick to the gut and she would be free. That didn't matter right now. It was irrelevant._

_She was an eight year-old slave-girl, bound and expected to behave accordingly, freely punished if she failed to meet expectations. That was what she was. That was what she would be from now on. She had no place, no right to argue._

_But being as spirited a person as she was, she did have a hard time with coming to terms with it. She was naturally an outspoken soul, she thrived on her freedom - but she no longer had any freedom to call her own._

_She had already tried to fight back against these circumstances, and despite her physical prowess, had quickly been shut down. How could one small girl, half Fanalis or not, win against several grown men at the same time?_

_Her defiance had not been appreciated._

_She was a prime target for that man's - her master's - rage from the moment she had met him._

_Three days ago, the girl had come here as a rebellious new slave, stubborn though afraid for her future at the same time._

_A month later, her will had crumbled beneath the sheer cruelty the world had hidden from her for so long._

_. . . . . ._

_"Stupid brat! Why the hell are you bringing me cold tea?! What the hell is wrong with you?" A sharp, open-palmed slap followed the enraged outburst, and the cup and plate clattered to the floor at the girl's feet, shattering instantly upon impact and spattering the fine carpet with a light coloured liquid._

_The girl winced ever so slightly at the mess, bracing herself for the inevitable explosion of fury that would follow. And follow it did._

_A large hand swept out and grabbed the red-haired female by the throat, hefting her up a few feet into the air. He let her dangle uselessly there for a few seconds, glaring at her with an intense hatred and scorn._

_Then, just as quickly as it had started, the girl was suddenly being shoved back down onto the floor - thrown, actually, and none too gently either._

_"Clean it up, you useless trash," the man aimed a kick at the girl's fallen form, and it took all of her willpower to not gasp out loud at the pain. "I want this rug to be spotless the next time I come in here. I'll break your arm if it isn't."_

_The red-haired girl knew well enough by now that this man would follow through with the threat if she didn't obey. Shakily, she pulled herself up to her knees and moved to clean up the mess._

_Tears burned at her eyes, but she didn't dare let them fall. Not now, not ever._

_In the end, she never did manage to get the carpet to be spotless like she was ordered._

_And true to his word, that hateful man made sure that the quote-on-quote, 'useless trash' that was his slave spent the next three weeks sporting a broken arm._

_. . . . . ._

_Months upon months passed in this fashion. The man that had bought her from the slave-trader was the cruelest man on earth, of that she was convinced. He treated her like she was less than a dog._

_Sometimes when she didn't fulfill his expectations, instead of physically striking out at her, he'd throw her into the basement cellar and neglect to feed her for days. Of course, that being said, he didn't want her to die either, so he made sure that she had a source of water - dirty and contaminated as it was. She would live off of that disgusting water and after a few days, she'd be let out._

_Other times he'd beat her with blunt objects until she couldn't stand upright. Very rarely would he make her bleed profusely, but the next day she would always wake up sore, her body stained black and blue._

_On rarer occasions, she would end up with a broken limb, like the day she spilled tea on his expensive living room rug. He would then proceed to berate and hurt her even more for not being able to do her job properly._

_On top of that, he was always verbally degrading her. She couldn't count all of the times he'd used nasty words to describe her even if she tried. Sometimes she didn't even know what some of those words meant._

_Either way..._

_It hadn't taken the young half Fanalis long to realize that she was both his least favourite slave among all of his bought property, but also his favourite to abuse._

_. . . . . ._

_During the long nights when she was unable to sleep, the girl would often stare up at the ceiling from her uncomfortable makeshift bed and ponder over the direction her life was going. It seemed like there was no way out, no visible light at the end of the tunnel._

_Like this was what her life would be until the day she died._

_And then she would picture her violent, abusive master and with a pang of fear think, death may not be that far off anymore._

_And slowly, the longer she spent entertaining these depressing thoughts, the deeper she sank into the darkness, allowing a deep hate for everything to settle in her heart. She began to hate her life, for what it had become. Her master, for his cruel actions. Her father, for abandoning her. Her mother, for dying mere hours after giving birth. Her fellow slaves, for simply being in the same situation as her and being unable to do anything about it..._

_...but she came to hate nothing more than she hated the world, and the people in it. The selfish, greedy, fickle people. They would turn on you in a heartbeat if it would save their own skins. They would beat you black, blue, and purple if they didn't like you. They would abandon you if that's what everyone else was doing._

_...and then they would have the nerve to act like _you're_ the one in the wrong when all is said and done. Like _you're_ the one that stabbed _them_ in the back. Like _you_ beat _them_ until they had trouble standing on their own two feet. Like _you_ left _them_ behind for something better._

_With time, the red-haired girl found herself growing cold, bitter, and uncaring. And slowly, those feelings turned into an unbridled rage, directed solely at the unfairness that infected her world._

_From that point, she had become sullen and volatile._

_She was ready to explode, at the drop of a pin._

_The day she did was not long coming._

_. . . . . ._

_There was blood dripping down her forehead and more of the crimson liquid stained her tattered clothes. Pain wrought her entire being, and she had to grit her teeth together to stop herself from making any noise._

_Her bare feet pounded against the hard earth as she fled from the large manor that had been her home for the last year and a half. The shackles that encased her ankles clanged together and made it difficult to run, but she fought on despite it._

_Her master was dead. Or she thought he was at least - she hadn't stuck around to make sure._

_It had happened so fast. Too fast._

_One moment she was delivering tea to the violent man, the next...it was uncanny how similar this situation was to the first time she had been tasked with this. He hadn't liked how she had prepared the drink, struck her, and the china had shattered against the floor._

_Only this time, when he had lunged to strike her again...she had retaliated._

_It hadn't even been planned or thought out. She just...she just hadn't wanted to suffer another blow at his hands. Her mind, her fear, her instinct to defend herself had kicked in, and before he could even touch her, she'd already had her hands flat against his chest to shove him away._

_Imagine her surprise when he had all but flown across the room and smashed into the fireplace. The lit fireplace._

_She still heard the scream as his bare arm was scorched by the flames. She still saw the look in his eyes as he glared at her with a mixture of agony and blind rage. She still felt the panic when he snatched up the long, sharp iron fire-prod and lunged across the room toward her. And she still felt the searing pain, throbbing all along her side, as he jabbed it toward her._

_She panted. She pushed herself to run faster, to get as far away from that place as possible._

_In the end, after he had cut her with the prod, she had wound up doing the only thing she could think of in that moment, before he had the chance to stab her to death. She had cocked her arm backwards, braced herself for the impact, and then let her fist fly. She had felt his bones snap beneath the sheer force of her punch._

_Shortly after he had crumpled to the ground, she was already stumbling out of his manor._

_At the very least, she had broken several of his bones. She doubted he would be able to get up again any time soon._

_Not that it even mattered, though. She hadn't even made it two yards away before the building went up in flames behind her, courtesy of the smashed fireplace. Dimly, she was aware that the flames had probably spread quickly once it no longer had anything to keep it at bay._

_Now here she was, staggering down an alley as her arm clutched at her wounded middle. She was loosing blood._

_Wheezing somewhat, the half Fanalis girl turned down some dark and dank, and broken-down alley. She didn't even make it halfway to the other end before her legs suddenly buckled from under her. She went down._

_It was at this point that she realized that this was probably the end. Her body was in so much pain from the prolonged days of abuse, and her abdomen had been all but sliced open. And while she didn't feel that any internal organs had been damaged, she knew that with the amount she was bleeding, unless she got help, there wasn't much of a chance for her._

_So she lay there, on her injured stomach, her breath coming out in short puffs._

_She felt herself slowly blacking out, her vision dimming gradually. She tried to keep her eyes open, tried to call out to any person that may be nearby, but her body just grew weaker and weaker with each passing second._

_Maybe this wasn't the time for this, but she couldn't help but think back over her life. Up until being enslaved, she had been a happy child. Bright and optimistic._

_Then came her father's betrayal, and the start of this nightmare. She felt bitterness twist in her gut. If it hadn't been for her father's selfish actions, she wouldn't be here right now, laying face-down in some forsaken alley, bleeding to death._

_She once again felt tears gather in her eyes, and not having the strength to fight them, she let them stream down her cheeks and mix with the blood._

_So this is her life, then?_

_This is all she was born to do? Betrayed by her family, sold off as a slave, only to have it all end like this?_

_It wasn't fair. Why had it turned out like this?_

_A soft sob broke out from between her lips._

_"Damn it all," she choked out, "Damn...it..."_

_Her world went black shortly after that, and she had no will left to fight it._

_If she had only stayed awake just a few more seconds, she would have noticed the footsteps that came racing down the alley toward her._

_. . . . . ._

_When her eyes opened again, the first thing that came to mind was, 'am I dead?'_

_She wasn't in that alley anymore. As she blearily took in her new surroundings, what she saw was the interior of what was most likely some sort of fancy house, perhaps a hotel room._

_The second thought that occurred to her was, 'why am I here?'_

_The red-haired girl turned her head to the side, eyes focusing on the nightstand sitting next to the no-doubt expensive bed that she lay on. There was a cup there, filled with water._

_She sat up shakily, ignoring the pain the movement brought._

_Fresh, clean water._

_But she hesitated in reaching out for it. Her hand stopped a mere half a foot from touching it, and she began to slowly retract it._

_What if that cup wasn't set out for her? It may not be hers to drink._

_Or what if it was poisoned? What if her master was still alive and had caught up to her in that alley, and was now trying to kill her by tempting her with what looked to be fresh water._

_Different scenarios played through her mind of what could go wrong if she dared to drink the water, and she was so preoccupied with it, that she jumped when an unfamiliar voice spoke up from across the room._

_"You can drink that, you know."_

_The half Fanalis' head turned toward the voice, and she was greeted by the sight of a man she had never laid eyes on before. The first thing she noticed was the hair. Long, pulled back into a ponytail, and a deep purple. Then her gaze zeroed in on his eyes - a strange golden hue._

_He was dressed in fancy clothes, and had various adornments and pieces of jewelry upon his person. Over all, he looked to be a very high class man._

_She'd never seen anyone like him before._

_Once her gaze had locked onto this strange man's, he graced her with a kind, charming smile, and she instantly dropped her eyes down to the bed sheets. The rules that had been beaten into her as a slave, to not look people who were obviously at a higher standing than you in the eye, had seemingly won out._

_She vaguely heard the sound of a chair scraping gently against the floor, and footsteps advancing toward her position. She still refused to look up._

_Then suddenly, there was a hand beneath her chin, tilting her head upwards. Her brown eyes locked onto that cheerful-looking visage again, and as much as she wanted to jerk her head away from his hold, she kept herself still, not daring to defy this stranger._

_Something was pushed into her hands, and she instinctively wrapped her fingers around it. It was the cup of water she had been hesitating over before._

_The hand let go of her face, but she still kept looking at this strange man, her expression now incredulous and more than a little confused._

_"Drink it," he said, smiling at her again._

_The red-haired girl's eyes dropped down to the cup of water. Suddenly, her throat felt parched, and her lips and tongue dry. She lifted the cup to her lips gingerly, taking an experimental sip._

_And then before she knew it, she was gulping down the rest of the clear liquid at a rapid pace, reveling in the cool clean sensation it brought._

_She set the empty cup back down upon the nightstand. As she did, there was an odd pulling sensation in her abdomen when she stretched out. A twinge of pain followed, and she winced._

_That was when she suddenly recalled everything that had happened. Her hands shot down to her stomach, gently probing through the fabric of her clothing - and she also realized at this point that she was wearing clean clothes, not the tattered rags from before - to feel around for the injury._

_She came to the conclusion that her wound had been treated and bandaged. At the same time, she also became aware of the loose, light feeling around her ankles._

_Eyes widening, the girl slowly, with trembling fingers, pushed back the blankets that pooled around her waist. Freeing her feet from the confines of the soft fabric, she gasped._

_Her shackles, the cursed steel atrocities that had bound her for so long, were nowhere to be seen._

_She was free._

_She was _free_._

_Feeling tears gather in the corner of her eyes, she felt beyond overwhelmed in that moment. She wasn't quite sure what had happened after passing out in that dark alleyway, but that didn't matter anymore because she was _free_._

_A chuckle met her ears and she lifted her watery brown eyes back up to the stranger, who was now looking to be some sort of saint to her. Was he the one that had freed her from that living nightmare? Had he been the one to save her from the brink of death?_

_"Who..." she hadn't spoken to another living being in so long, always having been told to keep her mouth shut, "...who are you...?"_

_The man stood up straight and tall. A smirk across his lips, he dramatically proclaimed, "I am Sinbad, High King of the Seven Seas."_

_Right then and there, to the young girl, this man was the kindest soul in the world._

_She had allowed herself to become convinced that there was nothing good in the world. That the people who inhabited it were all selfish. She had spent the past year hating others...loathing her own existence..._

_But..._

_Was it possible..._

_That maybe she was wrong...?_

* * *

**Whoo! Done, finally! That was certainly a task and a half, but it was also fun at the same time!**

**I originally didn't intend to end it right there, but then I got lazy and decided that it's fine where it is. XD**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and feel free to shoot a review my way, or favourite/follow. It is very much appreciated! :3**

**See you next chapter!**

**~TheAzuraStar**


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Magi. Thanks for Les Miserabby, who beta-read this chapter for me. Also, let me say that I am TheAzuraStar - just with a different pen name now.**

**Longer author's note at end of the chapter.**

* * *

**~ Half-Blood's Legacy ~**

**~ Chapter Two ~**

The very first time Maven had ever set foot in Sindria, she'd been amazed and awestruck. Being at a tender age of just ten, the former slave girl had never seen anything like it in her life. Her days had always been filled with such pain and dullness, confined to the same manor from dawn until dusk, and her master wore a never-ending sneer on his ugly face. She could hardly even believe that anything could be so bright and full of life.

To think that she had been leading a life of such suffering while there were people out there who did nothing but laugh and enjoy themselves day after day. It was so surreal, that she would not have believed it if she hadn't seen it with her own two eyes.

* * *

_"...I'm coming with you where...?"_

_It had been four days since she'd been rescued by this King Sinbad, and another man who went by the name of Ja'far - who she had met soon after the King had introduced himself. From what the young girl was able to gather, the two had ventured to the homeland of her master on some sort of official business. Meaning saving her had never been part of their plan, but had somehow happened anyway. She didn't dare to question their motives._

_Up until the moment at hand, the red-haired girl had spent all of her time recovering from her injuries. She rarely left the room she had woken up in, partly because she wasn't sure she was allowed to, and partly because she was too afraid to even try. The thought of her master, whose physical state was still unknown to her, kept her from even attempting to leave._

_The chains around her ankles were gone, but it would still be a long while before she was freed from the invisible chains binding her soul._

_"To Sindria," the purple-haired man replied to her soft-spoken question with a smile. He was always smiling whenever he was around her. She wondered why. For what purpose did he smile like that? To calm her? To make her more amiable? To reassure her?_

_But she never saw any ill-intentions in those smiles, though. She wasn't good at reading people, but even a slave - or was it former slave now? - like her could tell that much. It made her feel slightly more relaxed around him, because she at least knew that when he graced her with that upturn of the mouth, it wasn't like her master's smile - cold and sinister, promising pain and punishment._

_"Sindria?" Her brow furrowed and she couldn't quite keep the disbelieving tone out of her voice. "But...why?"_

_"It's better than spending the rest of your life here as a slave, isn't it?" He responded with his own question, but his expression remained kind._

_The girl's gaze became focused on the floor. Her brown eyes - her father's eyes - stared as if the tiled paneling below was the most fascinating thing in the world. She wanted to answer him with, 'yes, of course.' She wanted to agree, to say that anything would be better than a life of slavery. But she was unable to. Her tongue refused to move, her mouth refusing to form such words._

_Instead, she found herself asking in return, "But what of my...my master?" She knew she didn't care for the cruel man in any sort of way, but something drove her to ask. She hated the effect he had over her - how was it that he could still influence what she said, even though he wasn't even in this room with her? For all she knew, he may have died, but yet...the hold he had over her demanded recognition. The fear he inspired within her refused to loosen its grip._

_After she asked that question, Sinbad's expression seemed to change ever-so slightly. She didn't see it because of her lack of attention, but the man was silent for a second longer than she was expecting. Her gaze lifted back up to peer at him questioningly, and the moment she did was when he said,_

_"There's no need to worry about him," he didn't say why, and she didn't ask. She just listened intently as he went on, "The only thing you need to think about right now is making a full recovery. I promise you that you will never need to worry about something like that again." The way he smiled as he said it, she couldn't help but believe him. The sincerity rung strong in his words, and the only thing she was able to do was nod in agreement. She supposed that perhaps she should just trust in him and leave it at that._

_Maybe she was nothing more than a charity case to King Sinbad, but even if that turned out to be all it was, she would be eternally grateful to him._

* * *

_Three days later, she, Sinbad, and Ja'far were on their way to the land of Sindria. To be honest, she was more than a little frightened to step foot on the ship that would journey them to their destination at first. The thought of floating on water, only separated from a watery death by the wooden boards under her feet, made her reluctant. Was it really safe? Could she trust that it wouldn't break down on the way there? She had never sailed before, but Ja'far had reassured her that all would be fine. For a former assassin - Sinbad had entertained her with many stories of his journeys with the Eight Generals while she had been in recovery, so she was aware of his former occupation - the white-haired man was surprisingly kind._

_Now, here she was, leaning against the railing of the ship, looking out across the vast expanse of endless blue. In the distant background, the sight of her old home grew further and further away. She opted not to look at it anymore, feeling a strange tug at her heart whenever she did. That was in the past now. That's what Sinbad had said to her, and she clung to the words like a lifeline, allowing the warm feeling of hope to fill the emptiness left behind by her experiences._

_Slowly, she was allowing herself to see the world through a brighter perspective. It would take time, but perhaps someday she would be able to look back on her past without feeling a pang of fear or resentment. When she was able to do that, maybe then those invisible chains would be lifted._

_"Um, excuse me, miss?" She jumped at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, instinctively tensing up. She turned her head to the side, where there was a man she did not know looking at her. Wariness filled her eyes as she stared at him, and she had to force herself not to take a step away._

_"...yes?" She said to the man, who seemed to notice her reaction to him and tried his best to look as non-threatening as he could. Was her fear really that noticeable? ... she supposed it was. After all, the only people she really trusted at the moment were the two who had saved her. Everyone else was unpredictable. A variable that she wasn't willing to figure out just yet._

_"Er, you...you're kind of denting the ship..." the man told her, eyeing her hands where they were clutched at the railing. And sure enough, when the red-haired girl's gaze slid down to take a look, she saw that her fingers were wrapped around the round beam with crushing force - causing her to immediately withdraw them._

_"...I...I'm sorry," she mumbled, ducking her head and stepping away from the railing completely. She stared at her hands as if she'd never seen them before. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but every time it did, she couldn't help but think back to the time when those same hands had brutally shoved her master across his own living room - how she had punched him in the gut and made him keel over with her own sheer strength._

_She was half Fanalis, yes, but that didn't mean that she was used to this strength. In fact, all she could recall about it was being punished for using it in the past. Now, whenever she found herself unconsciously making use of her ability, her first thought was that she had done something bad and was going to pay the price for it. It was a mindset she knew she didn't need any more, and yet couldn't shake._

_"No, no," the man reassured her quickly, seeing the downcast look on her young face. "It's fine, no damage done. See?" He reached out his own hand, gripping the railing and giving it a good shake - it didn't budge. "It's just got a little dent in it now."_

_"Right..." the girl murmured, refusing to look at the man's face._

_There was silence for a little while, and she was sure that the man had left. Yet when she lifted her head at last, it was to see him standing there in the same spot. Now, however, he was looking at her with interest in his brown eyes. The look reminded her too much of slave-traders when they caught sight of her unruly red hair and unusual facial features. She unconsciously took a step back._

_"Say..." the man, this total stranger said thoughtfully, "that hair of yours...it looks a lot like a Fanalis', don't you think? You seem strong, too...especially for a child your age. But your eyes are brown. I could swear that Fanalis had red eyes."_

_Perhaps she should have just dismissed him then and there, told him that she was just an ordinary human being. That whatever he was thinking, he was mistaken. But then, memories flashed in her mind's eye, making her freeze. Lying only brought pain and suffering. Always tell the truth. If you were honest, then the punishment wouldn't be as severe._

_It was with those thoughts flashing through her head that her mouth opened of its own accord and she stuttered out, "I-I'm half Fanalis. My mother was full-blooded and my father was a normal person."_

_Instantly, she snapped her mouth shut, allowing a somewhat horrified look to overcome her expression. But it was too late - she'd already blurted it out. Her feet carried her back another step._

_She was no fool. She had come to learn a long time ago that it was her heritage as a half Fanalis that had gotten her sold - by her own father no less. No doubt he thought that a child with the blood of the legendary race would fetch a decent price. Seeing as the slave-traders made such a big fuss over her red hair and unusual strength, she had been able to deduce that being a Fanalis in a world such as this one was dangerous._

_Fear started to cloud her mind. It was irrational fear, spawned from her horrible past, but fear nonetheless. She couldn't even register the fact that the man before her wasn't even threatening. If she had been thinking rationally, she would have been able to see that his interest held no bad intentions - that it was merely a moment of innocent intrigue._

_But her memories were telling her the opposite. After all, all experience she had with that kind of interest had only lead to suffering. Her vision started to tunnel, and her breathing became quicker. Her heart felt like it was trying to leap out of her chest._

_The man reached out toward her, to help her, to harm her, she didn't know, and as he did, she seemed to snap. A sharp gasp left the girl's mouth as she stumbled backwards, trying to get away from him. "No! Don't touch me!"_

'Be a good little girl, and maybe you'll live longer than a few more years.'

_The voice, harsh and cruel and accompanied by a false smile, surfaced from the depths of her memories. Her body started to tremble._

'You've got the blood of the Fanalis, right? That's good.'

_"No, I don't...don't make me go back there...please!" She begged to no one._

'Shut your mouth, you whiny brat!'

'Your father doesn't care about you. Just look at what he's done to you!'

'You can stay down here by yourself and rot with the rats until I think you've learned your lesson.'

'This is the only thing you're good for, you-'

_Someone's hand landed on her shoulder, and the girl let out a shriek. She tried to flail her way free, but that one hand soon became two arms restraining her. The next thing she knew, she was elbowing her assailant in the stomach, and she heard a pained grunt from whoever it was._

_"Maven!" The voice shouted right next to her ear and the abruptness and volume made her stop moving for a moment, as her ears started to ring. The next thing she knew, she was being spun around. Her hazy brown eyes clashed with gold, and she stared up at the man in confusion and fear._

_"Are you alright?" Sinbad asked her in a serious tone of voice, and slowly, some of her senses started to come back to her. She blinked at him, her mouth dry, her heart still pounding in her ears. "Are you alright?" He asked her again when she didn't respond._

_"I..." what had just happened? Her head spun lightly, and after another short moment to gather her thoughts, she murmured, "I think so...?" She chanced a glance down at her feet - no chains. The sight calmed the young girl down even further, and she reminded herself that things were different now. She...she wasn't a slave anymore._

_"I...I'm fine," she spoke again, a little more firmly. To reassure both Sinbad and herself. "I apologize. I got a little...carried away with my memories..." she stepped away from the King, who finally let his arms restraining her fall back to his sides. Then, she bowed briefly to him and the other man, feeling guilty for the fact that she had overreacted so badly in her fear-stricken daze._

_For a moment, Sinbad looked as if he didn't quite believe her, but he was soon all smiles again like usual. He waved his hand as if to wave it all away. "No matter. As long as you're fine," he then gave a light wince, and a low chuckle escaped him as his hand fell to the place where she'd elbowed him. "You have quite the arm though, Maven. You truly are half Fanalis."_

_"I'm sorry!" Instantly, the girl was bowing again, her face almost comically wide-eyed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! Please forgive me!"_

_As she stooped downwards to bow again for the umpteenth time, a hand stretched out to place itself on her head when she began to rise back up. Ruffling her hair and looking into her wide, bewildered eyes, Sinbad all but beamed at her. Amusement danced in those gold irises, and the longer she took in the brightness of this man's very existence, the lighter her heart felt._

_And slowly, with some hesitance, a smile lifted the corners of Maven's mouth. For the first time since meeting King Sinbad, and for the first time in many years...she smiled a real, genuine and heartfelt smile in return._

_Life truly was brighter in the sun, wasn't it?_

* * *

_"That's Sindria?" Maven asked, her brown eyes wide. In the near distance, she could see it. From here, it didn't look that big, but already, she could tell that it was a bright and lively place._

_"It is," Ja'far told her, his own gray eyes trained onto the island before them. Standing next to the half Fanalis, he turned his attention to her, seeing the awe that was already beginning to form in the normally muted expression she wore. A small smile worked its way onto his face at the sight._

_A light breeze swept by, ruffling the girl's hair slightly and causing a few of the strands to fall over her eyes. She ignored it, her attention riveted onto the country before her. Something stirred faintly in her stomach, and she wasn't quite sure if it was anticipation or fear. It may have very well been a mixture of the two. All she was sure of at the moment was that that was to be her new home._

_Home. The word was foreign to her. In all her years of life, could she really call any of the places she'd been before by that name? Her old master's manor had been more of a prison than anything else. Even the little hut she'd lived in with her father all that time ago...she wasn't sure if it would be appropriate to call that her home either. Not after what she'd been put through thanks to her father's selfish actions._

_"What is a home, exactly?" She mumbled to herself, placing her chin onto her folded hands, which were once again gripping the railing. With a lighter hold this time. "I don't think I really ever had one..."_

_"A home is a place to come back to at the end of each day," Ja'far's voice broke her inner musings, and she turned her head to look at him questioningly as he continued, "it's where you always feel safe, with family and friends. There's nothing else like it."_

_Maven watched the white-haired man for a moment longer. There was a fond smile on his face as he looked out toward Sindria, as if he were remembering certain memories, memories that she couldn't even begin to fathom. Her own gaze turned back to the island in the distance, and a small frown twisted her lips downward._

_"Then," she began softly to herself, "I guess I really haven't ever had a home." For some reason, now that she realized this, she couldn't help but feel incredibly sad about it. A home seemed like something everyone should have, no matter who you were. What did that say about her then? In that instant, she felt very lonely._

_"Sindria is your home now."_

_At that reminder, Maven perked up a bit. The lonely ache in her heart lessened a bit, and she allowed a very slight smile to grace her features._

_"I know."_

* * *

Those old memories always brought a certain smile to the red-haired girl's face. Sinbad and Ja'far had never been anything but kind to her in those days - granted, they were still kind to her now, but seeing as she was older, they were also stricter. At least, Ja'far was.

Upon arriving in Sindria, she had been introduced to the other Generals. Aside from the King and the former assassin, the first person Maven had grown attached to had been the quiet Fanalis, Masrur. He also happened to be the closest in age to her, just three years older. Despite the fact that he hardly talked to her much at first, the mere fact that he was the same race as her instantly drew her attention. She could remember following him around constantly, always paying rapt attention to whatever he did.

He'd been like an older brother figure to her in a way. As she grew older, he also helped her hone her skills as a Fanalis, though she had to admit that he was quite a lot stronger than she could ever be.

Maven at some point became decently close to all of the Generals. It was thanks to them that she was able to slowly but surely open up and discover a long-buried side to her, one she was sure had died out when she'd been betrayed by her father.

With the passing of time, the half Fanalis changed for the better; she became more talkative, more lighthearted. It got easier to talk about past as well. The scary nightmares that used to plague her life every night became less frequent. She was actually able to get a decent night's sleep. The episodes like the one she'd had on the ship to Sindria slowly faded from existence as well.

Under the guidance of these bright people, Maven flourished. She excelled, put her past behind as best as she could manage. Sure, sometimes unwanted memories were sure to crop up, but she was normally able to overcome them.

Living in Sindria was like a dream. An unending dream that wasn't really a dream at all. It was everything and nothing like she could have imagined, her, a young slave who knew so little of the world.

It was bliss. The past six years of her life could be summed up just like that. Compared to her life as a slave, this was heaven.

She didn't want it to end, and as far as she knew, it never would.

Unfortunately, life had this way of turning everything that was familiar on its head. But she was so used to this lifestyle already, that the thought of it changing was too much for her to bother with.

And because of this, she was ill-prepared for what the future had in store for her.

* * *

**Hey, everyone. This chapter...took a very long time to come out, didn't it? I apologize for that. It's partly because I didn't know what I wanted from this story for a while. I was even contemplating discontinuing it.**

**But after some thought, I decided to give it a go again. Let's see how it fares over the next few chapters or so.**

**I also wanted to thank everyone who reviewed/favourited/followed. I didn't expect to get as many favs and follows on just the first chapter, so thank you so much for that!**

**This chapter was kind of boring in my opinion, but I still hope you enjoyed it at least a bit! It should pick up in a few chapters, when we reach the Balbadd arc!**

**Anyway, that's all for now.**

**See you next time!**

**~AquaLux Divine**


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